My badboy boyfriend [PabStell]

11

I ran until my legs carried me to the back of a building, where I collapsed into a corner, hugging my knees and burying my face in them. Stell let out a heavy sigh. I needed some time alone; I couldn't face him right now.

The wind whipped around Stell, a sharp contrast to the peaceful slumber he’d just enjoyed. 

My eyes snapped open, and I gasped. The sky blazed with an unbelievable orange, a breathtaking, almost unnatural hue.  I don't know how long I'd slept, but the world felt different, charged with an unseen energy.

My gaze drifted down from the vibrant sky to the object that had fallen from my shoulder – a jacket.

A thick, soft, dark blue jacket.  I stared at it, utterly bewildered. Whose jacket was this?  I looked around, the vast expanse of the empty field stretching out before me. No one else was here. 

I carefully examined the jacket, hoping for a name tag, an initial, any clue to its owner. Nothing.  Just the soft, worn fabric and the faint scent of cologne. He shrugged, a silent thank you to the unseen benefactor, and slipped the jacket on. It was surprisingly warm and comforting.

That's when I saw him.  A man, bursting from the treeline, his face flushed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

He stumbled towards me, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and something else… fear?  The man stopped a few feet away, his hand flying to his chest as if to still his racing heart.

Pablo stopped running, his breath coming in ragged gasps.  He’d been searching for Stell for what felt like hours, crisscrossing the sprawling university campus.  Every corner, every building, every shadowed walkway had yielded nothing.  Stell was nowhere to be found.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers fumbling with the device. I was about to dial, then a wave of frustration washed over him. He didn't have Stell's number. 

Panic tightened its grip. He’d been so focused on the search, so consumed by worry, that this crucial detail had completely slipped his mind.

But luck, or perhaps the universe's intervention, was on his side.  As he stood there, defeated, he bumped into one of Stell’s friends, a girl with bright, curious eyes and a cascade of blonde hair. 

He blurted out his predicament, his voice thick with anxiety.  To his relief, she readily offered Stell’s number.

She punched the digits into his phone, a surge of hope momentarily eclipsing his fear.  Pablo called several times, each ring echoing his growing apprehension. The calls went unanswered. 

The sky was darkening, the campus lights casting long, ominous shadows.  The initial frustration had morphed into a deep, gnawing worry.  Where could Stell be?

He resumed his search, his movements now more methodical, his heart heavy. He approached people, asking if they’d seen Stell. 

The answer was always the same: a polite shake of the head, a murmured, "Hindi ko alam."  Each negative response was a tiny hammer blow to his already fragile hope.

"Shit!" Pablo swore, a harsh sound that cut through the growing twilight. He hadn't seen where he was going, his frantic search blinding him to everything but the possibility of finding Stell.  He'd accidentally collided with someone, knocking them off balance.

"Wait!" the person called out, but Pablo, fueled by adrenaline and anxiety, hadn't stopped.  Only when a firm hand clamped down on his arm did he halt.  He turned, his breath still ragged, to see the person who'd stopped him.

"Are you looking for someone?" the stranger asked, his voice calm and surprisingly gentle amidst Pablo's turmoil.

"Have you seen someone with red hair, about this tall?" Pablo described Stell, his hands gesturing to indicate Stell's height.  The stranger nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face, then pointed towards a narrow alleyway behind a nearby building.  A wave of relief, so potent it almost buckled his knees, washed over Pablo.  He mumbled a hasty thank you, barely registering the stranger's features, and took off running again.

He reached the alleyway, his lungs burning, his heart hammering against his ribs.  There, huddled in the corner, his back pressed against a cold brick wall,